We are gone astray from God;
He is searching upon the road,
For like us, He is need entire
And the prisoner of desire.

On the tulip’s petal He writes
The message His heart indites,
Yea, and His voice is heard
In the passionate song of the bird.

He lay in the iris’ fold
Our loveliness to behold;
Bright cup of the ardent gaze
Whose glance is a hymn of praise!

Parted from us, forlorn
He sighs with the breath of morn,
Within and out He doth stand,
Around, and on every hand.

Great riot created He
A creature of clay to see,
Fashioned the piercing view
To gaze upon mortal hue.

Hidden in every grain
Not yet is He known to man,
Though bright as the full moon’s grace
In cottage and street is His face.

In our envelope all of dust
The jewel of life is lost;
Is it we, or Himself (O say),
This pearl that is gone astray?